Papa Rock

Ulfar grips his chest in pain as a feeling of unease forces itself over him. The starbreaker fell to his knees while the air grew too thin for him to breath, and with a troubled voice he speaks: "The Balance of Yemekar 'as vanished, the scales shattered." He looks down into the ground with despair and malice. Vengeance is a long road, one which cannot be taken carefully. "Ah hero 'as fallen."

Ulfar, hidden beneath the world in his bunker, grips the signed Charles the Bald training sword tightly. . . He mutters a prayer, trying to invoke a better future.

The Weight of Failures Ulfar sits within the caverns that run deep into the world, deeper than any man would wander. His gaze stares into the ground, isolated in the darkness of the depths, with nothing but his thoughts and the voices. Still, the Iron Crown rests upon his head. Light leaves his eyes as the golemantic prosthesis shuts off, essentially “closing” his eyes to retreat into his own mind. Around him are angered voices of Grand Kings long gone, words spewed and slurs thrown at the rise of Man, and also the failures of Ulfar. “We did it. Why couldn’t you?!” A voice yelled out. “You carved the steps for the rise of the Umros!” Another voice claimed. “You failed our people! You lost our home!” Ulfar’s hand grasps at the sides of the Iron Crown, gripping it tightly in rage and frustration. The walls of fortitude within himself begin to crack as the weight of shame and guilt presses against it. He tries to speak up against the tide of voices- “I tried! I fought as hard as I could!” - “I planned and built our artillery superiority! I trained our capt-” He is cut off by a shattering voice. “And what good did it do?!” “You?! Your achievements and ambitions do not matter!” “What you did does not matter if it did nothing.” The Starbreaker is forced into silence. “You want to talk about what you did?!” Another voice chimes in. “You left our one ally to the wolves!” “You gladly helped the man you call friend to crush Haense!” “You tore down the walls that protected our people!” “You turned your gaze away from the Clans! Taking in. . . Mice!? Halflings!?” “Sutica!?” From the dark, an emerald gaze pierces through and stares at Ulfar. A voice follows shortly after. “How about when You shunned my people?” “When You scattered Hefrumm?” “When You boarded them out of their own home?” “Unity. You fractured our Kin, cutting away a third of our people so that you could go to war for the Umros.” “Where was your cold heart when it mattered most?” The voices surrounding Ulfar grunted and grumbled in agreement. “Your failures eclipse your achievements!” “While you waged war of hatred against the Aenguls, you couldn’t see the enemy your own Kin warned you of!” In attempt to defend himself, the Starbreaker speaks up- “Every Grand King has his failures! Your Grand Kingdoms were not perfect either!” “Where did your Heros go!? The Kin that wakes from slumber in our people’s greatest need!?” “Where were the previous crown bearers!? Thurgrim!? Sigrun!? Ulfric!?” “Only Bakir stood! He was the only crown bearer to stand by my side!” “I am sure the list goes on! Our heroes turned their g-” Ulfar feels a force press against his neck, suppressing his voice within his own mind. Several voices speak up to judge him. “Your failures are born from your own mistakes.” “Not from us, our kin, your allies, or our heroes.” “Not from your past or upbringing, not from your pain and suffering.” “They come from you.” “Now they will be burned into your very soul. When you stand before the Brathmordakin for judgement, they will see your sins engraved into you like words on a page.” Something lurks within the dark, seizing the moment to slip through the fractures in the Starbreaker’s fortitude. The shadow around the Cave dwarf grew thicker as a vile ancient voice spoke, with the calmness of mischief and cunning, cutting into the soul of the Starbreaker with precision. “Had you followed Khorvad’s design, you would be absent from failure.” “Did they answer your prayers? The Tyrant, Yemekar?” Ulfar’s skin tightened as his hairs stood, a biting cold piercing into the core of his torso, feeling a presence lurk behind him, never truly revealing its face. “His Ambition is unending. How else did the Khazadmar dominate and conquer the world hundreds of years ago?” “A golden age under his name.” “Yemekar sits upon the throne, yet he is no God of Kings.” “That title belongs to someone they had to throw out. . .” “Submit to his Ambition and find victory in defeat.” “Or. . .” “Die and rot with the rest of our kin, left behind.” When the eyes of the Starbreaker reactivated, his sight focused onto his open hands, stained red. The blood of his kin covered them, leaving a burning sensation of agony. Ulfar looks up, surrounded by the faces of his dead Kin, allies, and friends. “What. .” His face then rests into his own hands. “Have I done. . .” The lost Starbreaker finds himself wandering through the deep caverns, eventually spotting a pool of water. His armor chinks as he kneels down with a thud, lowering his hands into the water so that he may drink. His shoulders slumped by the crushing weight of guilt, head hung low by the constant judgment of the voices. Ulfar’s face lacked expression or emotion, merely an empty husk of what once was the Grand King. His hands dip into the water again, causing the surface to ripple once he raises them out, drinking what he can. As his head rises, a subtle pale glow reflecting off the rippling surface catches his attention. He waits there, watching the surface of the water settle until calm and unmoving. “. . .” The image reflecting off the water becomes clearer, a ray of light managed to reach the depths and shine a piece of Dungrimm’s moon upon the surface. As he leaned closer to gaze at the moon’s reflection, he froze, staring at a monster that hid within the darkness of the water. The sudden scare slowly fades as he nears the water’s surface to see that the monster is himself. The Iron Crown that loosely sits upon his head is grasped at both sides. “Never again. . .” Muttered where none can witness but the Brathmordakin themselves, an oath made to atone. The Iron Crown is then lifted from his head, the voices fading from his mind as it is then slung onto his belt.

The End The hand of the canonist GOD descended from the heavens and stripped the Mountain of its defenses, weakening its stone until mere artillery could carve it away. In the first assault, the Empire’s ranks were hammered by a storm of ballista bolts that darkened the sky. Yet it was not enough. Their numbers were too great. Under the relentless barrage of imperial trebuchets, the Mountain began to crumble, and the dwarves and their allies prepared themselves for the breach. Finally, once the walls blew open, the Grand Kingdom of Urguan fell- for there was no defense stronger than the mountain itself, and even that failed. As the people escaped, traversing through the evacuation tunnels, the Grand King had released a missive a few days before the war. To the people of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. We have fought as much as we could; however, there are powers in the world that seek us gone. The narrative of our world is stripped from our grasp and handed over to those they deem chosen, the realm of Man. We will hold the line for as long as we can, yet should we fall, the people have decided the Grand Kingdom of Urguan will dissolve itself. Here is my final request: Spread out into the world and find safety in the mountains. The Empire of Man cannot conquer our world, and so we will simply take a new form. By the fall of Kal’Baraz, they will unleash our final promise, the ending Oath. The Line of Horen is Grudged for their Sin against Urguan. The cost of this grudge is their total annihilation. Mankind will find its fall soon to follow as the restraints upon the dwarves are released. No code, no regulation, and no law will bind us. As the war settles, the battle ends, and the people evacuate, Ulfar of the Elder clan Starbreaker, delivers a speech to the survivors. To my Kin, I thank you for your efforts. Despite the odds, we stood against oppression. Now, it has taken the mountain we call home. We rebuilt our society to a point of entering our feet through the door frame of a golden age, a time of absolute prosperity. Yet, just as the radiant sun of Armakak touched the skin of our faces, I couldn’t stop the door from slamming shut. The Grand King’s Oath is broken, and so I have failed you. When I enter the halls of the Brathmordakin, they will strip me of my deeds for every life lost under my command until I am left with nothing but faults. Despite everything, we stood shoulder to shoulder every step of the way, in spirit and in body. To the Clans: Elder Clan Frostbeard Elder Clan Ireheart Elder Clan Grandaxe Elder Clan Starbreaker Elder Clan Irongut Elder Clan Goldhand Clan Grimgold Clan Silverbraid Clan Doomforged Clan Gemeye and Gimble, the only Jewelbeard to answer the call. You answered the call of our Kin and so your oath is fulfilled. To the Clan Lords: Rhorgvar of the Elder clan Frostbeard Bostone of the Grimgolds Gallio of the Elder clan Grandaxes Yrun of the Elder clan Ireheart Grelu of the Silverbraids Thanks befall you for upholding your oath to the Obsidian Throne. To the Commanders: Hekkaes of the Elder clan Goldhand Shamizir the Sanguine Morroick of the Elder clan Starbreaker Yrun of the Elder clan Ireheart The Brathmordakin have noticed your efforts; may your story in the Khaz’A’Dentrumm be long and fruitful. To the Artillery Captains: Bostone of the Grimgolds Dugan of the Elder clan Frostbeard Thriku of the Elder clan Frostbeard Dorin of the Elder clan Starbreaker My captains, you have fought well. We have shown the Empire that, despite our size, we are smarter, quicker, and better than they are. Your skills and dedication in the final battle proved that Dungrimm walks with you. To the soldiers of this war, Khazadmar, Elgus, Uruks, Halflings, and Musin: You gave everything you had when faced against destruction, and for that, you will be remembered forever. Now the Grand Kingdom of Urguan is no more, and I am no longer your Grand King. May we see each other again when Horen and his Children are strung upon the fields of battle, their generations severed for eternity. Narvok Oz Khazadmar. Narvok Oz Da Brathmordakin. Narvok Oz Urguan.

[!] It is unfortunate since the Shugo's army is rallied at the gates of Kal'Baraz, they lack a naval force. No soldiers stand at the sea border to stop the Urguani navy.

The Battle of the Golden Forest Art by Crocorax The air grew heavy as Ulfar stood at the top of Kaz’Ithrundyr, looking over the vast forest and mountain valleys. The Grand King watches the migrating citizens of the Musin, Redtail, and the Edict travel the roads into the safety of Kal’Baraz’s mountain. “Grand King.” the Grand Marshal addresses him. “The Imperial army ‘as reached our bordehs. Our artillereh is aimed along their path. Should we fire?” Ulfar simply watches the wandering citizens as the wind blows against his stout form. “How many ov them are there?” the Grand King asks. The Grand Marshal unfolds the battle logistics. “Thah Core counts Two ‘undred thousand soldiers, sir.” The Grand King gestures with his hand. “Foire the Artillereh, Morroick. We mus’ stop as maneh ov them as we can.” Soon after, the order is given and the artillery fires upon the approaching Imperial army. After the first volley, forty thousand soldiers were slain, forcing the remaining soldiers to use the cliff-sides as cover. Their large marching force eventually made it atop and set up camp, constructing trebuchets and rolling their cannons into position. The golemantic gaze of the Starbreaker sets upon their forces, counting each piece of artillery the Empire and its enslaved vassals brought. “They did nae bring much. . . Do they think us idiots?” the Grand King comments. “Perhaps they will try teh breach our fortress with their first shots an’ then charge us.” He gestures to the camp. “Grand Marshal, have the crews aim all artillery at their cannons an’ trebuchets. Reserve ammunition, we will not need much if they will simply abandon their own artillery teh climb our walls.” The Grand Marshal nods and relays the directive to the varying artillery crews. The Artillery Captains - Dorin Starbreaker, Gallio Grandaxe, Dugan Frostbeard, Thriku Frostbeard, Brenna Doomforged, Barundin Jewelbeard, and Boston Grimgold - all commanded by the Grand King and Artillery Commander Hekkaes Goldhand, adjusted their artillery in preparation for the coming battle. There stood Ulfar once more, looking down at the Emperor Hadrian, staring at him as he commanded his people. He adjusts the aim of his own cannon, slightly off course from the rest. “HOLD!” the commanders ordered, every single crew waiting in dead silence for even the forest itself went dormant. BOOOOOOM! As the imperials went to light their fuses and sling their trebuchets, the skies thundered when the artillery of Kaz’Ithundyr fired upon the enemy camp. Ulfar’s own cannon fired, the iron ball slamming into Emperor Hadrian’s own cannon, tearing it apart as if it were made of parchment paper. To the Grand King’s surprise, the imperial artillery didn’t even cause a breach. He had overestimated their competence and skill. Now, he watches as their entire camp, with thirty thousand soldiers slain, lies smashed to bits, save for two or three trebuchets left standing in the very back with no crew to operate them. “Embarrassing. . .” Ulfar states as this singular fortress routed and demolished the armies of Five Realms, the Kingdom of Norland, the Empire, the Kingdom of Idunia, the Principality of Caurost, and the Shugonate of Kurai Kuni. “Re-aim thah artillereh! Fire upon the last three trebuchets!” the commanders call out, however, once aimed and fired- nothing happened. . . “Grand King! We’re out ov ammunition!” the Captains reply. Soon, this overestimation of the Imperial army led to the fall of Kaz’Ithrundyr as the last three trebuchets were manned by surviving soldiers, and a breach was made. Upon the retreat of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, Ulfar calls out to the people- “Retreat to Kal’Baraz, the golden forests are lost! Let thah Empire deal with the natives!” As the Imperial army advanced into the remaining territory of the Golden Forest, they failed to spot a single Legionnaire defending the borders. They traveled along the road, planting down their banners as they prepared to make their way into the valley itself. Imperial scouts were sent to scavenge for food in the forests and catch wild game to feed their starving soldiers. Unfortunately, as they traversed, they met an untimely death as stone clubs smashed in their heads. Alerted by this, the imperial soldiers mounted their steeds and prepared for battle, charging into the forests, expecting there to be some sort of Urguani ambush lying in wait. However, they were wrong. As their cavalry swept through the forest, they were met by the natives, a tribal Clan of Unguh. Their forces clashed with raging tribal creatures, having lost a thousand soldiers in battle as well as two thousand horses. In the end, the imperial cavalry prevailed, ending the lives of many tribal creatures that day. Deep within the halls of Kal’Baraz, the Grand King sits at a table with the Council of War. “We cannae hold the eastern defenses, Grand King, our fort there was collapsed and made redundant by unknown entities that spectate this war.” the Grand Marshal states. “Hrm. . . Wot ov the peace meetin’ with the Emperor ov Man - Hekkaes?” he asks. Hekkaes responds briefly, “T’e Emperor gave us terms o’ enslavement, moi King, not o’ peace. ‘E wouldn’t even listen te’ reason, onleh wantin’ te’ conquer us.” The Grand King sighs, setting his hand upon his beard as he strokes it. “We must prepare for battle upon thah southern shores, we cannae face them on the field etself for their army is made up ov five kingdoms. They outnumbah us twenty teh one.” The meeting concludes as Ulfar stares blankly into the space in front of him, lost in thought and planning.

[!] The missive never reaches the Grand King. . .

The Clan of Unguh There exists an ancient bloodline often ignored and kept hidden by the society of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. Hideous and vile in nature, underdeveloped creatures born from forbidden creation – Mix Breeding. The Clan of Unguh is made up of Dwarf-Orc hybrids, a race of creatures with bodies that are misshapen, out of proportion, and minds severely hindered by its racial nature. However, very rarely, much like the occurrence of a new star - the Clan of Unguh produces an offspring that is wiser than all in its own unique way. This rarity is capable of solving problems, and performing tasks that outperform the average dwarf and orc. Clan Culture: Clan Unguh, while simple-minded, do appear to have several deeper and more meaningful traditions. First and foremost is their clan attire. When a beardling of Clan Unguh comes of age, they are sent out from their cave and into the world to kill a large beast; it is the hide of this beast that then becomes their personal garb for life. To lose their only article of clothing is considered a great shame within the Unguh clan, and is most often met with blunt bone clubs swung at one's head. The Clan has no great poets, writers, philosophers. Instead, their stories are all told around campfires. Oral storytellers may exist, but are typically very rare and are a source of pride within the Clan. To an onlooker, one would only see grunts - but to the Unguh this is an epic retelling of their battles. Do not be confused by their simple nature. The Unguh are mistrusting, and do not like outsiders. While they tolerate their dwarven and orcish brothers, they absolutely detest Humans and Elves. “Tolerate” does not mean befriend - they simply will not kill and eat them. However, many Humans and Elves have found themselves over a spitfire in an Unguh War-Camp. Clan Unguh also enjoys art, and using blood, mud, or soot to draw on cave walls. They retell their epic battles, hunts, and other things. Clan Hierarchy: Clan Unguh has a rudimentary hierarchy, with the smaller Unguh following the larger and stronger members of the Clan. Occasionally, a matriarch may lead the Unguh if she possesses a “magical” gift. The Unguh Matriarchs do not possess any magical abilities, but many in Unguh look at women as having great “powers”. The Clan only has two real “positions” of power, save for the rare Matriarchs. A “War-Leader” and a “Hunt-Leader”. It is unsure what the difference is to outsiders, but it seems the Unguh know the difference between hunting animals and going to war. They take great pleasure in combat. Clan Speech: Due to their insular nature, Clan Unguh cannot speak the “Common Tongue” very well. While it is possible, their blunt nature prevents them from having flowery speeches. Examples of how an Unguhite might speak: Normal Dwarf: “Might I have some ale?” Unguhite: “GIVE. ME. NOW!!!!!” Their unique language can be best described as grunts, and handsigns. In fact, handsigns are a large part of their language. Afterall, how can an Unguhite Hunting Party slay large beasts if they are loud? Clan Subgroups: There are two distinct subgroups within the clan, neither of which have a true name. The one group seems to be primarily of Mountain Dwed and Forest Dwed stock. They have pale to brown skin, and take great interest in hunting in the forests and mountains. Their Clan Attire may be pelts, furs, and other various things. They primarily wield bone clubs, and other various bludgeoning weapons. The other group are of Cave Dwed stock. They do not like going to the surface, and instead spend their days hunting in the cavern systems. Their attire is based around insects, and other cave dwelling creatures. This group is typically armed with sharpened chitin claws, which they’ve gained from felling a beast in the darks below. This group is more malformed than normal, due to their double cursed nature. Clan Trades: Unlike the Elder Clans, and even the Common Clans - the Unguh do not have sophisticated “trades”. They do not wield amazing dwarven weapons or armor. Instead, the Unguh use rudimentary weapons and armor as discussed above. After successful raids, the Unguh do attempt to use the armors and weapons they claimed on raids. Unfortunately, a farming sickle is considered a Starsteel Weapon to the Unguh. So, their trades are usually focused on the “maintenance” of “weapons” (used loosely) and “armor” (also used loosely) that they have claimed in battle. Hunters, Warriors, and Gatherers are the primary professions within the Clan. Using rocks, clubs, and whatever they can find. Hunters and Warriors are bold and fierce, while the Gatherers attempt to sneak and hide from non-Unguh when “gathering”. Yes, that includes stealing. As the oral stories go, several hundred years ago a person dropped a lockpick in a cave. Ever since then, the Gatherers seek to steal as much as they can. And also collect berries. Clan Myths: The Clan believes strongly that they were formed from “rocks” and “mud”, and any insistence that they are the half-breed spawns that they are will usually result in you being eaten alive. While they worship the “Brathmordakin”, it is a heavily bastardized version of the religion. A blend of “Shamanism” is present within their myths, but the Unguh do not communicate with the spirits. To the Unguh, there is the Masculine God (PAPA) and the Feminine God (MAMA). Papa represents Yemekar, Dungrimm, Grimdugan, and Amarkak. Their mud-shrines and, if they feel industrious, clay shrines show a large Unguh wielding a staff. This is their “PAPA”. The “MAMA” is Anbella, Belka, Ogradhad, and Khorvad. These represent the feminine traits of the Unguh. Their mud-shrines and clay shrines show a big bossomed Unguh wielding a spear. This is their “MAMA”. The “Great Hunter” is something which they speak of. It is unknown if the “Great Hunter “ is a mythological figure, creature, or a God. The Unguh believe that when the world is to be destroyed, it is the Great Hunter who will hunt all the descendants and kill them. Those who survive the longest will win the “hunt”. Clan Rituals: There are several clan rituals that the Unguh have. We will discuss several rituals that almost all of the Unguh will do at one point, or will help other Unguh do. The First Hunt Every Unguh will do their “coming of age” ritual, where they will go out into the wilderness armed with only a club. They will slay a beast of their choosing, and then wear the hide of the beast they slew. This could be a mammoth, a bear, large spiders, beetles, or even other descendants. What the Unguh wears is a mark of their character. A larger, hairy creature might be slow but with a lot of endurance. This would show that the Unguh can overcome endurance based challenges. A large spider or insect may be fast, showing agility. Rarely, when an Unguh kills another descendant, they may wear the skin of that person. This would show their warlike and brutal nature, which is respected by fellow Unguh. The Soot Mark When an Unguh has a family member die in battle, they cover their face in soot to display their grief. This soot dyes their face into a dark black colour, in the form of markings such as hand prints or stripes, which makes it known to the other Unguh that they have the “Soot-Mark”. This mark alerts the world that this Unguh seeks revenge against those who killed their family. It could be an animal, or another person. When the Unguh slays the beast or enemy, they bring back their bones and hide to the Unguh “Shamans” (or whichever religious “leader” they have). The bones are burned, and the hide is fashioned into some sort of tall hat. The soot is then washed off their face, and they are not longer “marked”. The Last Hunt When an Unguh is mortally wounded, sick, or reaching an infirm age - they will go on their “Last Hunt”. They strip down to only a loincloth, and go out into the world armed with a simple club or bone knife. Their other possessions will be left behind, to be passed down to their children. They have only one goal, slay a dragon with their bone club or dagger. So far, no Unguh has successfully returned from a “Last Hunt”. However, it is said that one day an Unguh will slay a dragon or one of their evil followers - and they will be enshrined as a GOD to the Unguh. The Fallen Feast The Unguh are cannibals, and thus enjoy eating the flesh of their fallen enemies. If the Unguh defeat a force which is larger in number than them, they will usually consume the flesh of their enemies and take hallucinogenic mushrooms. This is done because the Unguh now make a “claim” on their fallen foes, who are meant to serve them in the afterlife. It is said that when they die, they will expel all the enemies they’ve killed in combat and will use the “mud” to make new people. Battle of the Golden Forest: Grand King Ulfar Starbreaker had long since known of the Unguh, and largely left them alone within the dark and dingy caves around Urguan. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. After months of treating with the simple Unguh Tribes, he was able to unite them under a single banner and called them to war. How was he able to unite them? He ate their leaders. Thus, he was proclaimed as the WARLORD of the Unguh. The first ever time the Unguh united under one Clan Banner. At least, the Unguh claim he ate their leader. This story has been lost to time. In order to prove their acceptance into the Clans of Urguan, the Unguh were tasked with harrying and delaying the Imperial Forces via guerilla tactics. Armed with only the hides on their back and war-clubs, the Unguh led a valiant defense against the Imperials and delayed their march. Even though thousands of Unguh died, it matters not - since there isn’t much else to do in an Unguh Camp besides make babies and kill things. Thus, the Unguh were accepted into Dwarven Society. Unguh War-Bands seeking loot and glory will always remember the Battle of the Golden Forest - the first ever battle in which the Unguh fought in. Clan Stories: As mentioned above, these stories are told orally by the Unguh. Their “storytellers” are considered respectable Unguh, and they have made it their “trade”. It is even rumored that some Storytellers possess the powers of “Bardmancy”, but unfortunately non-Unguh are not usually allowed in their villages. So, it’s hard to tell. The Grey Chieftain: Unguh Smag was clad in his warpelt, and his enormous boneclub rested on his shoulder. The Unguh had been called to raid and plunder by the great “Grey Chieftain”, and the Unguh answered his war-call. Unguh Smag was named the War-Club, and had five Plunderers who listened to his commands. A small human village was over the hill, and the Unguh plotted their raid. Smag grunted as he drew the battle plans in the dirt, and made a circle motion with his hand. Unguh Thrak was unimpressed, and began to bang his club on the ground. Smag smiled - for this would be the perfect way to display his dominance over the War-Party. Without warning, Smag smashed Thrak in the skull with his warclub - scattering his teeth amongst the mud. Thrak spat out blood and bone, and looked up at Smag with pleading eyes. The other Unguh began to hoop and holler at the sight of the blood, and jumped up and down. “No.” Was all Smag said, and brought the club down on Thrak’s skull - obliterating his former comrade. Disrespect was not tolerated by Unguh Smag. Those under his command were impressed, and began to loot the belongings of Thrak. It was a brutal simplicity to their “Law”, and all Unguh knew it. Just then, a human hunter was running through the woods. The Unguh did not hear the footsteps, but noticed that the wildlife had scattered. While a simple folk, Unguh Smag was always perceptive. “For. Grey-Chief!” He let out, and the Unguh rushed towards the forests. The human hunter had seen them too late. He let out an arrow, and it struck one of the Unguh in the thigh. This enraged the other Unguh. Why could this human not be good prey and just die? As Unguh Smag got close to him, he smashed his knee in with the club. “Now. Look Me. Eyes.” Smag said, as the human was now at eye level. “Die.” He simply said, as he caved in the skull of the human with his bone-club. As the War-Club, he got to loot the human first. Taking a rusted and broken dagger, his boots, and a silver chain. Unguh Smag was now one of the wealthiest Unguh to live. His men began to cheer for his victory, and brought the human back to the camp to eat. The hunt was over, and Smag cheered for the Grey-Chief. The Iron Skull As previously stated, with the Ungah being so simple-minded, they have never been able to craft any form of substantial armor to protect them in battle. That is, until the Iron Skull was crafted. This fearsome helmet was created using the cracked skull of a human who strayed too far into the caverns where a horde of Ungah clan members resided. He was, of course, slaughtered, beheaded, and later skinned down to the bone, his skull then used as a bowl. It was then that a more “intelligent” horde member found the man's skull to be abnormally thick and large. Being of high intelligence, he, of course, then put the large skull onto his own head and began to dance around. Another horde member did not like the showboating and decided to club the dancing Ungah on the head; however, the skull protected him. After bringing the skull back to the larger horde, the Matriarch at the time took great interest in it. Having lived for many moons and having seen proper dwarves melt rock and ore, the Matriarch decided to try the same. For the following days, many attempts were made to melt ore and stone into the hypothesized liquid stone. Finally, after another Ungah member tripped and dropped his stone pillow into the fire, they found what they were looking for: iron. They then melted this ore into liquid iron, afterwhich they poured it over the skull and let it harden. And thus, the Iron Skull was born. The Iron Skull was then passed down throughout generations to warband commanders. Many came and went, all the while the great piece of armor protected them. Until the Iron Skull fell into the hands of Tug ‘Iron Skull’, who led his brothers and sisters into the Battle of the Golden Forest. It was here that the Iron Skull was lost, until another Ungah rises to claim it back. The Flying Unguh Deep within the dirt, a young Unguh Rak stared up at the ceiling. Soon it would be his first hunt, and his stomach turned with anticipation. As he laid on the pelts on the floor, a young Unguh charged into his camp. “Me got pelts!” He said proudly, “Me thunk lion. It dead!” He danced around. “Unguh Rak me think you kill Lion.” Unguh Rak stared up at his friend, “No. Unguh Rak not kill Lion. Unguh Rak kill Harpy. Unguh Mokk kill Lion.” Unguh Mokk stared in disbelief. “Unguh Rak no kill Harpy. They fly.” “Then Unguh Rak fly.” Days passed, and Unguh Rak had his blood day. He was now ready for his first hunt. The Clan Chief gave him a simple bone club, and some rocks. “Go. Fight. Hunt. Kill.” Unguh Rak nodded. It was time to become a man. Leaving the cave, Unguk Rak had no pelts. He was not yet a full Unguh, and had not won himself the right to wear the holy pelts. The caves were cold, and the surface was warm. He felt the warm air on his skin as he left the cave. The sun danced in his vision, and he held up his hand to shield his eyes. “Papa…” He said, as he looked up at the Sun. The paternal figure in the sky, sitting in judgment. He stood on the ledge of the cave, and saw two paths. One up, and one down. He knew he would find the harpies up below. He was not yet a man, and thus did not have the honour of the soot ritual - but he blamed the harpies still in his heart for the death of his mother. He remembered how they had stolen her, and eaten her alive in their nests. Down below, he knew the game would be plenty. Deer, mountain lions, bears, and even their enemies the Humans. But he had greater plans. He stared at the peak of the mountain, and down below. He had made his choice. His bare feet were heavily calloused, and he had no problems scaling the mountain. It began to snow, and his muscled body flexed. With each push forward, he became more and more tired. Still, he had to push on. He had known an Unguh, Unguh Yam. Yam had failed in his first hunt, and he remembered how he tasted. Yam did not taste good, and Unguh Rak knew his destiny would not be on some spit over a fire. The sun beat upon his back, and even though the snow surrounded him in a blanket of cold - his Papa was giving him a blessing. He knew that he would slay the Harpy. As he climbed up, there it was. A small nest of Harpies flying in the sky. They spotted him immediately. “COME. AND. FIGHT!” He roared. One Harpy flew down as fast as thunder, but Rak knew what was coming. The Harpy would attempt to dig her talons into his shoulder. Anticipating a low fly, he swung his club. CRACK. The brittle bones of the harpy made a joyous sound. She crumpled to the ground, her wings smashed and broken. “Me gonna eat you.” Rak said, and she screamed. But just then, another Harpy flew down. Now, two. And three! Rak could not count past three, but there were numerous. They dug into his skin, and began to try to take him off the mountain to drop him below. Another Harpy was dead, falling to her death below as his club destroyed her bones. They screeched, and began pecking at him. He was covered in blood, his skin turning from a pale white to a dark red. They scratched at his eye, and he closed it. He did not know if he had lost his eye or not, but he did not care. As the combat continued, he placed his back towards his Papa. The sun beat down on the Harpies, and they screeched as they were blinded. The battle was over. Five slain Harpies, and Unguh Rak was close to death. He pulled out his knife, and began flaying the harpies for their hides. He wore them, and cut their wings off. He did not know if it would work, but he began to flap the wings as he jumped off the mountain. “Must. Go. Home.” He said, as he plummeted down below. Unguh Rak, the Unguh who could Fly. Credits:

[!] This missive never makes it to the Grand King Ulfar Starbreaker. . .

Approved

Art by ArgentEra The Great Buzzing [Player Eventline] From deep within the world, there rests an ever expanding cavern system filled with various forms of subterranean life. Though many are rather passive or territorial, some have become rather aggressive due to the overpopulation of predators. The cave bees have begun to stir within their hives after having lost one of their previous homes to Urguani construction. To evade the predators, they need to expand their hives and migrate to other areas of the caverns to allow for more growth as a means of amassing a population large enough to pose a threat to the danger. And so. . . A scouting party quickly traverses the cavern roads, running as fast as they can from a dark mass that vibrates the air with a powerful enough force to shake their stomachs. . . A member of the scouting party calls out to the rest of the party as the air vibrates intensely. Dorfall Honeylicker: “Run for the city! Use the boulders as cover!” Jarsiq Combmuncher: “Don't worry, Dorfall! Oi see the fork in the path- We’re almost out!” “We’ll make et ho-” - “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Within mere moments, the scout Jarsiq was lifted off the ground by the swarm and burned to crisp. Bongor Beesniffer: “Fock! Don’t look back, keep on runnin’!” “They’re gainin’ on us! Good Gods! Dungrimm Save m-” Another scout is absorbed into the Swarm, flesh torn apart and consumed to be turned into honey at a later date. By this point, two scouts remain running for the escape. Dumdril Hivepoker: “I don’t think we’ll make it, Scout Commander-!” Dorfall Honeylicker: “Donnae give up now! We have teh make it to the city and call upon the Legion!” The two are almost out as they tumble and run, loose stone crumbling and flinging beneath their hasted steps. Dumdril Hivepoker: “You’re right! The Legion must be informed- but only one of us can survive this!” The scout member stops in his tracks as Dorfall continues unknowingly of his actions. Dumdril turns his gaze to the approaching swarm and charges towards them, aiming to occupy their attention long enough for Dorfall to escape and warn the people of Kal’Baraz. Dumdril is engulfed, fighting back for as long as he can, though eventually he is crushed with his last words echoing out: “Brathmordakin carry you, Scout Commander! Narvak Oz Urguan!” The Scout Commander turns his head to see he is all that remains, given enough time to turn the corner and ascend the stairs into the safety of the Legion’s defenses. A tear dried upon his cheek and sweat soaking into his beard, he calls out: “Dwedmar! Legion! Oi call upon your aid! Ah great danger approaches!”

The Grand King stares. . .

An Iron Assembly Issued by the Grand Kingdom of Urguan I, Ulfar of the Elder clan Starbeaker, Grand King, summoned the peoples of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan to the Throne Room for an Iron Assembly. Topics that will be discussed: The remainder of my Reign The updates of the Articles The introduction and proposition of the new Constitution The War Effort The Demon Invasion The Urguani Naval Fleet and Assignment The Tax Shift Signed and Sealed by the Undersigned Representatives Ulfar Kazzarathsson of the Elder Clan Starbreaker ᚢᛚᚠᚨᚱ ᚲᚨᛉᛉᚨᚱᚨᚦᛊᛊᛟᚾ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛞᚨ ᚷᛟᚱᛗ×ᛞᚹᛖᛞᚢᛚ ᚲᚨᛉᚨᛗᚨᚱ ᚲᛟᚱᚾᚨᛉᚲᚨᚱᚢᛗᛗ The Grand King of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan ᛞᚨ ᚲᚨᚦᚨᛁᚲ ᚦᚱᚢᛗᛗᚨᛉ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛞᚨ ᚲᚨᚦᚨᛁᚲ ᚦᚱᚢᛗᛗᚨᛉ×ᚨᚾᚲᛟᚱ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᚢᚱᚷᚢᚨᚾ Thane of the Elder Clan Starbreaker ᛏᚺᚨᚾᛖ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛞᚨ ᚷᛟᚱᛗ×ᛞᚹᛖᛞᚢᛚ ᚲᚨᛉᚨᛗᚨᚱ ᚲᛟᚱᚾᚨᛉᚲᚨᚱᚢᛗᛗ Kahl of Kaz’ad Nolvaraz ᚲᚨᚺᛚ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᚲᚨᛉ’ᚨᛞ ᚾᛟᛚᚢᚨᚱᚨᛉ High Lord Golemancer ᚨᛉ ᚱᛁᚲ ᚷᛟᛚᛖᛗᚨᚾᚲᛖᚱ Godfather of the DON ᚲᚨ×ᚨᛉ×ᚢᛁᛊᛁᚾᛞ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛞᚨ ᛞᛟᚾ

The Starbreaker stares. "There es noh room for foreign powers. . ." There is no welcome in his voice, nor is there malice.

From the Eyes of the Grand King !! READ SPOILER FIRST !! The conflict between the Empire of Man and the Alliance of the Four Brothers had dragged on for years, each side bleeding the other dry. Alliance caravans—laden with weapons, supplies, and food—were ambushed and burned as they traveled between capital cities and distant vassals. The Empire sought to starve the Alliance by severing its lifelines. In response, new routes were established. Old underground trade tunnels—once carved during times of peace—were reopened and repurposed for war. Beneath mountains and stone, supplies flowed unseen. The Empire lacked the engineering prowess to intercept them. For a time, the system held. One Year Later… “Grand King! I bring troubling news!” A Legion soldier entered the hall at a hurried pace, armor still dusted with stone and soot. In his hands was a report—one the Grand Kingdom had long feared receiving. “The Western Engine has been compromised,” the soldier said, breath still tight in his chest. Ulfar remained silent. He sat at the dinner table, a half-eaten plate of grilled chicken resting before him. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the soldier as the report continued. “Locals report sightings of a massive Kurai Kuni machine bearing Imperial markings.” The soldier swallowed. “Imperial engineers have produced a mining drill capable of boring deep through the earth.” Ulfar’s expression did not change. “They breached and destroyed the Western Engine,” the soldier said. “The supply chain to the Horde has been severed.” A pause. “There are plans to attack Kal’Baraz once more. With one route disabled, they believe the city is vulnerable.” Ulfar raised a hand, steadying him. “Ready yourself, kin,” the Grand King said calmly. “Eat. Drink. Rest.” The soldier hesitated. “Word has already reached me,” Ulfar continued. “We are prepared. Our architects and engineers have strengthened our defenses.” The soldier bowed deeply, reassured, and was dismissed. A Few Months Later… The ground trembled. Ulfar stood alongside the Legion and the Elder Clans, shoulder to shoulder with Alliance soldiers atop the great gates of Kal’Baraz. From the heights, he watched the Imperial host approach—banners snapping in the cavern air, armor gleaming in torchlight. At their head rode Hadrian, flanked by Ser Honeywine. “Ulfar!” Hadrian called. “My friend!” The echoes rolled through the stone. “Are you there?” . . . There was no reply. High above, Ulfar watched in silence, his crossbow resting against the parapet. He did not fire. His gaze passed over the Emperor and his knights, settling—lingering—on Ser Honeywine. The murderer. “We will breach this gate tonight!” Hadrian shouted. “Come out, Ulfar! Save your people from throwing their lives away!” Still, no answer. Hadrian’s jaw tightened. “Fine—” He nodded. Ser Honeywine moved forward, barking orders. Imperial soldiers nocked arrows as the cavalry shifted into formation. “FIRE!” Had there been a sun above the cavern, it would have vanished beneath the cloud of arrows as if Hadrian crushed it within the palm of his hand. They struck the stone walls of Kal’Baraz in a storm of iron and wood. Some found their marks, ringing against dwarven steel—yet no blood was drawn. Hours Later… “They’re charging the gates! Quarrelers, ready!” The order rang out. Dwarven quarrelers and Alliance archers took aim as Imperial cavalry thundered forward. Ulfar steadied his crossbow. His sight was fixed on one man—Ser Honeywine. Steel met shield in a deafening crash. Arrows and bolts screamed through the air, striking horses and riders alike, sending bodies tumbling into the cavern rivers far below. Amid the chaos, Ulfar pulled the trigger. The bolt struck true—punching through Ser Honeywine’s armor as though it were parchment. A Grand King was meant to stand among his warriors on the field. But today, Ulfar chose the towers. From above, he watched how the Imperials moved—how they fought. They expected him on the ground. Another bolt was chambered. Cranked. Fired. It pierced Ser Honeywine’s torso. Hadrian’s voice echoed upward. “Where are you, my friend? Have you considered my offer?” Ulfar raised his crossbow once more—but before he could fire, an Imperial arrow slammed into his helmet. He dropped behind the wall as volleys hammered the stone around him. The walls groaned as dwarven machinery shifted, gears locking into place. A trap was sprung. Imperial screams followed—armor clattering as bodies plunged into the darkness, ending in distant splashes below. Ulfar rose. “I am here, friend!” he called. “What was your offer?” Silence answered him. He moved along the wall as arrows snapped past. “Surrender!” Hadrian finally shouted. Ulfar scoffed. Surrender? After Hadrian had led his forces into Kal’Baraz under cover of night? After merchants and citizens were slaughtered—adults and children alike? “We will die standing,” Ulfar roared back, “not live kneeling!” He repositioned to another tower, sight settling on Hadrian’s head. “So be it!” the Emperor replied. Ulfar’s jaw clenched. “Do it,” a voice whispered. “He would not grant you mercy.” Ulfar’s grip tightened. “I am not him.” He shifted his aim. Ser Honeywine. He fired. Reloaded. Fired again. And again. And again. Bolt after bolt punched through the knight’s armor—yet he did not fall. “I don’t understand,” Ulfar muttered. Another bolt was chambered. He raised his aim—up the torso, to the helm. Click. The bolt struck, cracking the helmet—fracturing the skull. Or so he thought. Ser Honeywine stood unmoved. He snapped the shaft from his head as though it were nothing. With his adamantine axe, he cleaved the remaining bolts from his body. Ulfar felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. Not fear for his life—but fear of what stood before him. Fifty bolts. Every one pierced the armor. And yet the man stood unharmed. “What kind of man is that?” Ulfar whispered. “That,” the voice replied, “is what men become when Khorvad claims their hearts.” “Monsters.” Slowly, Ulfar lowered his crossbow. An Imperial arrow struck his chestplate, leaving only a scratch. “What are we fighting?” he asked. Below, Imperial soldiers hurled themselves against the gates with reckless abandon—lives spent as though death were temporary. The gates of Kal’Baraz ran red, not with Alliance blood, but Imperial as the Emperor Hadrian enforced his presence and will against the resistance. “I’m low on bolts!” a quarreler shouted. “Only a few arrows left!” an archer answered. “They’ve more men than we have ammunition!” “Enough,” Ulfar commanded. “If you cannot shoot, then stand.” He raised his shield. “Follow me. We bear shields for our kin.” He led them from the towers to the gate, merging with the infantry as the order rang out: “Reposition to the second gate!” The Alliance shifted, forming new lines. Archers gained fresh angles. Infantry braced. “One more push!” The Alliance roared as they surged forward, the ground shaking beneath their advance. Arrows fell upon retreating Imperials, abandoned by their own ranks. When the clash ended, Ulfar still stood. Blood soaked his armor and the stone beneath his boots. The cavern fell quiet as the Imperial march faded into retreat. Ulfar raised his axe. “We still stand!” Yet deep within, dread lingered. This battle was won—but the next? They were no longer fighting Man. They were fighting fearless men made into monsters. OOC: